


dark on fire

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: F/M, Nancy Drew Files, Post-Canon, Sex, casefile, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned in the middle of a case, in the Hamptons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dark on fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glasheen25 (children_of_lir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/children_of_lir/gifts).



There's a long dark stretch of highway in front of them, back to the Hamptons, and when Ned swipes at the side of his nose, staring ahead, and suggests that they pull over at the next hotel with any vacancy, Nancy nods gratefully, gently brushing the delicate skin around her eyes with her fingertips. Her mascara is still thick on her lashes, and she can feel the weight of the foundation and powder on her skin, the remains of her lipstick. Even so, her heart is only now slowing. Two-fifty in the morning. The stars are spectacular, twinkling through the atmosphere, and the heat of the summer night has given way to the breeze off the water.

 

Nancy and Ned have just broken into three houses, looking for evidence in a museum theft. Eloise is back at her house, waiting for them along with Bess, but Nancy is keyed up, and she could drink a bottle of rum without feeling it, could run barefoot along the highway without feeling it.

 

"What now?"

 

Nancy stretches, and almost catches Ned's quick glance as her breasts rise under the burgundy satin dress. The yards of slick fabric slide over her smooth legs. "I say we get them all at the same restaurant for lunch, confront them with what we found, and see what happens."

 

"And you think Wallace isn't going to lose it?"

 

"Well, his wife won't be there."

 

Ned half-smiles, negotiating another turn. "You really don't like him, do you."

 

Nancy shakes her head, perching her elbow on the door ledge. "And if he turns out to be the one, if he and Jennie were in on it together, I will be so happy. Even though Ilena can't stand me."

 

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that."

 

Nancy touches his shoulder. "Thanks for coming with me tonight."

 

"Like I would have let you go alone."

 

"Let me?" Nancy repeats, raising her eyebrows, but there is no rancor in her voice.

 

"What, are you saying you wanted Ilena to catch you?"

 

Nancy shivers. That is what set her heart to speeding, that is what gave her the rush. Ilena very nearly walked in on them just as they were finishing up, Ned's cell buzzing angrily with Bess's warning, and when they'd finally made it out, Nancy had been panting, her eyes bright, laughing in relief.

 

"Definitely not."

 

At the hotel, a low sandy-brick construction arranged around a lapping pool, Ned pulls in front of the revolving door and smiles at Nancy as he pulls his suit jacket out of the backseat. "Be right back," he says, and she watches him all the way to the door. He is utterly gorgeous in his suit. Her heart clenches at the sight of him.

 

Ned walks out with a room key and Nancy presses her legs together, smiling, resting her hand on the back of Ned's seat, and when he slides back in she toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Two beds?"

 

"King bed. I know that'll be a letdown after the guestroom at your aunt's."

 

"You read my mind."

 

All she has is a bundle of clothes, the dark yoga pants and long-sleeved tee and sneakers she wore to the stakeout; she casts a desultory glance back at them, then shrugs, sweeping out of the car and shaking out the hem of her dress. She wore it to blend in with the champagne-and-fundraiser crowd, the burgundy satin cut low at her bodice and tight at her waist, the hem kissing the ground, her mother's pearls around her neck and in her ears and a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist, the teardrop diamond charm swinging against the heel of her hand as she throws her head back. The glass and a half of white wine is long gone, she pulled out half the pins in her sleek hair, and she can feel the warm glossy locks of her hair falling over the back of her neck as she gazes up at the stars. 

 

"Nan?"

 

His hand brushes hers and the awareness sings all the way up her arm, tingling over her breasts, centering below her navel. She and Ned have barely touched since they arrived in the Hamptons; save one slight, aborted dance at the gallery reception, save the weight of his palm resting gently at the small of her back as he swung her on the moonlit patio, she never knew how being around him, being denied his embrace, the tender press of his mouth, could drive her so crazy.

 

"Coming," she breathes back, gathering her skirts in one satin-encased palm as he pulls her inside.

 

When he opens their room she has a faint impression of a tall armoire, a desk lamp, the anonymous and faintly antiseptic scent, before Ned has her pressed against the floor-length mirror, the glass cold at her back as he pins her there with a hard, bruising kiss and his hands at her waist. She tugs her gloves off, finger by finger, and tosses them carelessly to the floor, tracing the line of his jaw, the starched line of his white collar. 

 

"Hey," he smiles, when he pulls back.

 

"Hey," she replies, tugging at his lapels until he lets her slide his coat off, toss it onto the desk. "Be a dear and get me a warm washcloth."

 

Ned tilts his head and wiggles his eyebrows, and Nancy playfully smacks his shoulder. "Have to get this makeup off."

 

When he comes back her dress is carefully lain across the armchair and her heels are under it, her wrinkled satin gloves folded over the bodice, and she's fumbling with the clasp of the pearl necklace. "Trade you," he says, his shirt is unbuttoned and his shoes are off, and he hands her the washcloth and deftly unfastens the necklace, laying it reverentially over her dress. The earrings go next, his fingertips soft and stroking over her ears, and she shivers when he traces a line down her neck.

 

She scrubs over her face and her mascara and eyeliner are smeared into dark patches around her eyes, and she runs the tip of the cloth over the remains of her makeup. The woman in the mirror looks younger, less assured, but not as young as she used to. She makes one more pass and gasps in a breath, tossing the cloth onto the counter, and Ned unfastens her bra, hook by hook, their gazes locked in the mirror. The garment falls and she's wearing her panties and bracelet and a few hairpins, while Ned is still in the majority of his suit, his chest against her back as they face the mirror. She looks at herself, displeased with her reflection; her breasts aren't large enough, her hips are too wide, her thighs—

 

And then Ned cups her breasts, gently, lifting them, holding their weight in his palms, and she lets out a slow, trembling breath, arching, tilting her head so that the crown rests against the point of his jaw. His thumbs brush her nipples and she digs one toe into the carpet, shifting her weight, her lips parting. She lifts her arms to loop them around his neck and he murmurs appreciatively.

 

"You're wearing too many clothes."

 

"Mmm-hmm," Ned agrees, and she grinds her ass against the front of his pants, and he squeezes her nipples between index fingers and thumbs and she rocks again.

 

"I was dying to do this," he mumbles into her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth for a moment. "But I knew she'd walk in."

 

"Yeah," she agrees, turning in his arms. She tugs at his shirt and while he's pulling it off, she unfastens his pants, shoving them and his boxers down.

 

"Turn around, Nan."

 

She obeys, as Ned kicks his pants off, and his erection bumps the small of her back and she hooks her thumbs in the elastic of her panties, but he brushes her hands away.

 

"Leave them on."

 

"Not for too long," she murmurs, closing her eyes as he kisses the back of her neck.

 

"Not for too long."

 

The desk lamp paints them in hazy gold, her breasts and thighs, the saddle of flesh she can see at his side that she knows stretches to the join of his own naked thighs. He cups her breasts again, brushing her nipples, and she braces her palms against the wall on either side of the mirror, meeting Ned's gaze in the mirror as she grinds against him again.

 

"You like this."

 

It isn't a question. She bites her lip as he flicks his thumbnails over the tips of her nipples. 

 

"You look so beautiful."

 

She shakes her head but she can't reply, finds herself speechless as Ned, one hand still caressing her breast, slides his other hand down, over her stomach, under her panties, and Nancy tightens her hands into fists as Ned gently pushes a finger between her lips, teasing her with feather-light brushes until he touches her clit, and her knees go weak. 

 

"Watch," he whispers, as her eyes flutter. When their gazes meet again, the spark is violent, and he slides his fingertip down her folds, finding the incredibly hot, slippery flesh that is already clenching in anticipation of his cock, and he digs his thumb against her clit and plunges three fingers up inside her and she lets out her breath in a moan, rotating her hips against him as he thrusts in and out of her, in and out, his thumb circling her clit more and more roughly.

 

"I'm going to fall," she groans, her breath catching in a cry at the end of it, and she sinks to her knees slowly, sliding them apart, arching, her hips thrusting in counterpoint to his fingers. She does a slow split until she can't push herself up again and braces against the wall, writhing, sobbing out her pleas as he grunts with the effort and his fingers plunge deeper and she falls forward, her nipples tight against the cold glass of the mirror.

 

"Now?"

 

She nods desperately and he pulls her off-balance, and together, her hands shaking, they pull her panties off. He picks her up and she immediately wraps her legs around him, balancing on his shoulders as she rubs the hot wet flesh of her swelled inner lips against his erection, and he groans out a curse as he stumbles the few feet to the bed, falling backwards, and his cock is already slippery, throbbing, as they angle it together and she cries out in relief as she fits him inside her, her inner flesh already tightening in welcome against his shaft.

 

Ned strains off the bed, under her, his hips pushing up to drive his cock deeper inside her, and she plants her hands on the bed, her toes curling as they fuck, hard, desperate, her inner flesh hot and incredibly slick and his fingers digging into her hips to pull her down to him. She pants his name, her breasts bouncing with every thrust of her hips.

 

And then he's gasping, and she throws her head back and whimpers when he finds her clit, roughly strokes it, and her inner flesh ripples as she circles her hips, knees spread wide, their skin slick where it touches. He puts his hand at the small of her back and pushes her, thrusting up until he's as deep as he can be, and comes, shuddering, gasping underneath her as she follows.

 

"God," she breathes, collapsing to him, breasts flat against his chest, both of them panting. "Oh God."

 

"Mmm," Ned agrees, sliding his hand into her hair. "Remind me to do that more often."

 

"Which part?"

 

"All of it," Ned murmurs, craning his head up to kiss the crown of her head. "Mirror on the ceiling when we get home."

 

"What were the rules?"

 

Ned sighs. "I... am so very satisfied right now that all I can honestly say is, that must've been one of them."

 

Nancy smiles and rubs the peaked tip of one of his nipples. "Satisfied, huh."

 

"Mind blown."

 

She slowly lifts herself off him and regards him while on all fours, her hair falling toward him. "Maybe next time we can just get a hotel room when we visit Aunt Eloise."

 

Ned runs his thumb over the soft tips of her hair. "You know, it's okay for married people to have sex. Even in relatives' houses."

 

Nancy wrinkles her nose. "Maybe for guys. Besides, you really want me to be quiet? The entire time?" She catches his lower lip in her teeth, gently.

 

He chuckles. "Like you could."

 

"Is that a bet, Mr. Nickerson?"

 

"It is." He grinned at her. "Mrs. Nickerson."


End file.
